


Sopor with a Shot of Vodka

by chromyrose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Worship, Comfort Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they told her about the bloodthirsty murder troll hiding out somewhere on the meteor, Roxy didn't feel afraid. Maybe her sense of self-preservation needs some work, but she prefers to believe that he's just misunderstood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sopor with a Shot of Vodka

Even though they warned her about the unhinged purple murder-troll, when Roxy sensed something hiding out on the under belly of the meteor, she wasn’t afraid. Since finding the meteor her curiosity had refused to leave her be; while Rose and Dave generally kept things under covers, and even tended not to speak too openly with her, the aliens on board let her ask all of her ridiculous questions with little judgment. 

But almost no one spoke of the stowaway troll. Kanaya, the green girl who was definitely involved with Rose, simply asked that if Roxy was to find him, that she would get word to her as quickly as possible; Terezi reflected that sentiment, and added that she was excited to have him in her court. 

According to Dave, Karkat would be the one who knew the most about him, the mystery troll, “because they’re like no-homo boyfriends or some shit, Rose knows more about this quadrant shit than me.”

Roxy could not bring herself to ask Rose about something as insignificant as the trolls’ love lives, and so she never really learned what Dave meant, but she did take his advice to ask Karkat.

“It’s none of your shitting business, you mentally deficient drunkard.”

Well, then. Roxy shut her eyes and she could feel something in the void around her, the vast emptiness interrupted. She hadn’t felt it ever before, not even since entering the game. She knew of her title, though, and wondered if being a Rogue meant she could only sense things which weren’t meant to be seen…

Gamzee Makara lay in a rainbow pool, in one of the rooms so deep down it was probably well on its way to erupting from the other end of the asteroid. Roxy exhaled and could see her breath fog before her, but his didn’t. She wasn’t even sure he was alive, what with his blank eyes; Roxy wondered if maybe they were focused on something not in this realm. What she understood to be blood was caked on his shirt and smeared on his face over cracked clown makeup that made him look miserable.

Roxy stepped into the room and Gamzee’s eyes snapped back to attention, something wild kicking up her fleeing instincts. Roxy didn’t flinch; she walked with gentle purpose across the room to the predator, and pulled from her captchalouge a bottle of vodka.

“A pick-me-up for the both of us.”

\--

Half a bottle later found Roxy situated in Gamzee’s lap and she marveled at the great size of him; she found her head nested in the middle of his chest. Gamzee spoke of his miracles, and she watched the muscles in his throat tense and slacken with each syllable, so foreign and so beautiful. Roxy knew something or other about miracles, and not just that fact that her liver still functioned. DNA was a miracle, the way even a slight change could resist in a being utterly unique from the original. Cats were a miracle, the way they moved with such grace and purpose and how the fur on their bodies all grew in the same direction and the tiny claws on their feet that kept on growing. Pumpkins were miracles, Nintendo was a miracle. 

Rose Lalonde, and the fact that sometimes her eyelashes fell and sat on the curve of her cheekbone, the fact that she _lived_ and _breathed_ and _was_ , that was a miracle. 

Gamzee didn’t have eyelashes, only the girl trolls did, and his eyes seemed all the stranger for it. They were half-lidded, a dirty mustard color with molten purple making its way into the blackened core. If he had eyelashes she would pluck one off and teach him to wish on it, like she learned to on the internet as a child. He would probably like that. 

“What is all up an’ runnin’ through your thinkpan, my bitchtits human sis?”

Roxy looked up at him, crusty makeup and three deep purple scars, and tilted her head up to kiss his greyed out lips. 

Gamzee kissed her back, his arms coming up to hold her back, his mouth parting and the taste of alcohol and dust filling hers again. His sharp teeth pressed against her tongue, but she wasn’t afraid that he would bite, and he didn’t. Her tongue teased back, rubbing the wet roof of his mouth. Her open palms pressed his baggy shirt into him and she felt the bones that protruded in places where she had none. 

He cradled her like a doll and then settled her down on the floor, on her back. Roxy wondered if she even had a sense of self-preservation, but the hands that held her so softly did not seem like those of a murderer. She shifted even to unclasp her bra, and pulled it out from beneath her shirt, before holding it up to him. Gamzee’s expression was the perfect blend of bemusement and wonder. 

Roxy smiled and kissed him again, pulling herself up by an arm around his neck to peck him with kisses, as his long, cold fingers slid up her shirt and against the pale canvas of skin at her belly. Her shirt was removed, and she placed it under her head as a pillow, in order to watch him look at her bare body. 

“Your tits,” he inhaled, his hands a desperate few centimeters from them. “They’re all… brown and shit.”

She laughed, and pinched the skin of an areola; it stayed wrinkled when she pulled her hand away. Gamzee looked awed, and his fingers finally inched their way to the sharp point of her aroused nipple. She was unsure where she was supposed to touch to encourage him, but he understood the sharp intake of breath was good, and he kept massaging her. 

It took a while for Roxy to tire of the wonderful feeling, but when the wetness under her skirt won out over the heat of her blood, and when she was sure her breasts could swell no further, she pulled herself up again and kissed Gamzee heatedly. She slid her fingers over the thick of his jaw and rubbed at some of the makeup there, which his sweat was loosening, with which her face was certainly now covered, and moaned into his mouth. A growl erupted from deep in his chest and shook hers, and against her thigh she felt something ripple. 

His eyes were nothing but focused now, not with killer intent but sexual lust, and she knew because she felt it too. A tip of her head encouraged him, and for good measure Roxy moved to peel his shirt off. When it caught in his horns, he tore it away with a grin. 

Now Roxy’s eyes wandered his chest, smooth, and nipple-less, as his reaction implied. She missed having something to latch her mouth onto, but her hands steadied themselves lower, until they curved over twin protrusions on either of his sides. Gamzee hissed, and Roxy decided after repeating the motion that it was a good thing. She repeated the motion, even slid down prostrate before him and close her lips around it, though that did not buy her the reaction she’d hoped for. 

His pants were the next thing removed, polka dotted pajamas that she considered hiding to steal from him, later. But she didn’t worry about them for terribly long, in favor of his exposed genitalia, a weeping purple prehensile cock that smeared itself over her belly and skirt. Roxy pulled that and her panties off at once.

“Little dude wants to play with your bulge,” Gamzee murmured as he watched Roxy watching his cock. “But it doesn’t look like you’ve got one for him.”

Roxy stroked it, already planning to do it one better. She tucked sweaty hair behind her ear, and placed her mouth over the purple tip. Gamzee instantly whined, the bulge sliding into her orifice. But just as quickly as it did, it pushed in, and Roxy gagged it out.

Gamzee frowned and started to apologize, but Roxy put a finger over the exposed black of lip. She spread her legs in front of him, and took pleasure in the hungry way he looked at her pinkness, the way his fingers instantly brushed her blonde hairs and pushed into the source of her wetness. 

Roxy shifted closer and drew the bulge in her hand towards her; Gamzee’s fingers pulled away, and Roxy led his bulge right to her entrance. It pressed in, and she squirmed at the new sensation, so much thicker than one or two fingers. She let her eyes fall shut, brought a hand up to tease her breast, and let herself be taken by Gamzee, allowing the noises she made to guide him, unfiltered. Her brain ran on automatic, then, as her body experienced a rush so high, alcohol paled in comparison. 

And when Gamzee pulled out, his purple spill all over her thighs and inside of her, and her body was still quivering with orgasm, he whispered gruffly, “That was a motherfucking miracle,” and Roxy agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> The twin protrusions Roxy finds on Gamzee's lower torso are vestiges of the grub legs under his skin; it's my headcanon that trolls retain a little bit of them after they grow into their adult bodies. 
> 
> This is a really interesting pairing, I think. In some ways they are both looked down on by their friends for their over-reliance on mind-altering substances, and yet they retain this friendly optimism. So I definitely wanted to explore that a bit!


End file.
